


Fairy Floss

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alaska, F/F, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Murder Wives, wlm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: It was always after a job Villanelle experienced her night terrors, like the cognitive dissonance of creatively committing murder then returning to her happy hideaway was just too loud for her to consciously process. It didn’t take a profiler for MI6 to recognize the pattern; Eve picked up on it almost immediately.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	Fairy Floss

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly did not mean for this to be so fluffy... no one hates me more than me... xoxo

**I**.

Assassins aren’t supposed to have bad dreams, but there they were.

Assassins aren’t supposed to enjoy domestic bliss either.

In a world of contradiction, two concepts constantly competed for real estate in Villanelle’s mind: Violence. Tranquility.

The epic battle had to erupt somewhere, so it overflowed in her sleep and was typically directed at the petite woman lying next to her.

Eve lost count of how many times she awoke with Villanelle’s hands around her throat, or her knees on her shoulders. The first time it truly freaked her out; she thought she was going to die. Her life didn’t even flash before her eyes so much as Niko’s face just hovered above her, shook his head in a disappointed fashion and mouthed “told you so.”

But then Eve realized Villanelle was asleep, completely unaware of what she was doing, or of any motivation behind it, and lacking her usual elephantine strength. Eve could push her away with no more than a finger, which she did. Sometimes Villanelle got up and roamed their cabin, but usually she rolled over and went back to sleep as Eve rubbed her back and whispered sweet nothings against the nape of her neck.

On mornings after her unconscious attacks, Villanelle would awake, her usual chipper self, clueless of what she’d done to Eve.

Eve decided she wouldn’t say anything, but she read up on sleep disorders all the same.

 **II**.

Eve should have known better than to expect Villanelle would stop working once they settled in Alaska.

“You said we have plenty of money,” Eve argued. “Why do you keep going away on these dangerous jobs.”

“You are so cute when you’re worried,” Villanelle said and gave Eve a pat on her ass so she’d move out of the way.

“And you’re annoying when you’re avoiding,” Eve grumbled, but stepped aside so Villanelle could press her thumb to the safe’s lock, open it, and grab a stack of passports and a gun.

“This one will be quick. Keep supper warm for me,” she said and tugged the zipper up on her black parka. Eve stepped in front of the door.

“You’re forgetting something,” Eve sighed. Villanelle patted her pockets. Eve saw her make mental calculations. Shaking her head with a defeated smile, Eve grabbed the collar of Villanelle’s black parka and pulled her in for a kiss. “Get back safe,” she whispered against Villanelle’s lips.

“No worries, Baby,” Villanelle winked and was gone before Eve could even begin to process how even on a day when snow fell outside their door, the kiss tasted like tropical fruit.

It was always after a job Villanelle experienced her night terrors, like the cognitive dissonance of creatively committing murder then returning to her happy hideaway was just too loud for her to consciously process. It didn’t take a profiler for MI6 to recognize the pattern; Eve picked up on it almost immediately.

While she couldn’t always predict when Villanelle would leave for freelance, she was able to plan for her return. She’d have a warm bath drawn, tasty food prepared, and decadent wine poured. And for dessert, always mountains of ice cream in a sweet rainbow of Villanelle’s favorite flavors. The creature comforts had a way of lulling Eve’s deadly girlfriend into a more relaxed and easy manner.

If Villanelle still paced or fiddled with the silky sash of her robe, Eve led her by the hand into their bedroom, where she had a fire roaring and oil warming in a little bowl nearby. Flannel sheets and layers of down comforters puffed up their bed like a luxurious cloud, beneath which Eve pushed Villanelle’s lithe body, but only after stripping her of her robe.

“It isn’t fair for me to be naked and you to be in plaid pajamas from head to toe, Eve,” she muttered with a little kick of her brow.

“I thought maybe you’d like a massage,” Eve replied. She kneeled next to Villanelle and dipped her fingers in the oil. She rubbed her hands together. “Roll onto your stomach.”

“I had something else in mind,” Villanelle pushed her lips out in a pout which Eve wasted no time kissing.

“Oh, I know what you have in mind. Now roll over,” Eve chuckled and Villanelle complied with a huff, stating she was only doing so because Eve had plied her with a tub of ice cream.

“You know I’ll do anything for ice cream,” Villanelle said and then moaned loudly as Eve sank her fingers into the muscles of her shoulders. “Oh god that’s good, Eve. But, you know, I am thinking it would feel a lot better if you were also naked. Just saying.”

Eve scoffed, but wiggled out of her pajamas and resumed her ministrations to Villanelle’s backside, worked her way slowly down her spine, over her hips, and then very deliberately turned her attention to the perfect curves of her ass. When Villanelle felt Eve’s hands caress her lower half, she opened her legs and tipped her pelvis up in an invitation that would be refused only by someone made of stone. Eve slipped her fingers in between Villanelle’s legs and instantly felt the slippery heat. “Fuck,” she exhaled.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Villanelle whispered even as she was turning over and Eve had to adjust her position to lie next to her in the bed and find her throbbing mound again. Villanelle grabbed Eve’s head and kissed her hard and deep as little whimpers and moans tumbled from her and she shoved her thigh between Eve’s legs. “Don’t ever stop,” she panted. She grabbed Eve’s wrist and held it tight. Villanelle put two of Eve’s fingers inside of her and Eve continued circling her bud with her thumb. “Don’t stop. . . I’ll die if you stop. Yes, Eve, don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” Eve breathed. She moved on Villanelle’s thigh and suckled her tongue. She endured the near savage bites Villanelle visited on her jaw and neck, but she didn’t stop.

**III.**

“Eve!” Villanelle screamed. “What the fuck?”

Villanelle had Eve pinned on the bed and held a knife to her throat. “Are you awake?” Eve dared whisper.

“Yes I’m fucking awake! What is happening?”

“You do this sometimes. It’s okay, Villanelle. It’s just a bad dream, or like one anyway. They call them night terrors.”

Villanelle threw the knife across the room and got off of Eve. “I’ve done this before?” She asked. Eve turned on a small bedside lamp.

“Yeah.”

“Well, do I do it a lot?” Villanelle’s expression flickered like the embers of a dying fire between thrilled, frightened, confused, and curious.

“Often enough. Usually after you come home from work,” Eve answered. “Research has shown them to be a subconscious reaction to stress.”

“But I’m not stressed. I love my job.” Villanelle said, sincerely puzzled.

"I'm not sure job satisfaction factors into your subconscious."

“Have I hurt you before, Eve?”

“Not really. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Eve shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Eve said. “And I sort of thought I had it under control. You never used an actual weapon on me before.”

“It seems like a very weird thing to do; to attack you in my sleep.”

“You think?” Eve snorted a little laugh. “It’s okay though. Come here,” she settled Villanelle’s body back in her arms.

“I don’t want to harm you, Eve. You understand that?”

Eve nodded.

“You take very good care of me, Baby,” Villanelle’s voice was serious, somber.

“I try.”

“We need a code word,” Villanelle declared.

“Huh? What?”

Villanelle propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at Eve. “Yeah, a code word. A specific something that you say to snap me out of it.”

“Will that work?”

“It will. I will use some hypnosis technique to implant it. I will make it work so I don’t hurt you.”

“Oh okay, well, what would the word be?” Eve was still puzzled.

“Fairy floss,” Villanelle said without hesitation.

“What?”

“Fairy floss. You know the pink and purple fluffy candy on sticks they have at festivals? I love that stuff. If you say that when I am sleep freaking, then I will know to wake up and not hurt you.”

“You think that will work?” Eve’s forehead wrinkled dubiously.

“You trust me, don’t you, Baby?”

“That’s a loaded question, Villanelle,” Eve quipped, but the fingers of one of Villanelle’s hands wandered over Eve’s breasts, and the fingers of her other hand walked down over Eve’s tummy and kept going, lower and lower. “Fuck,” Eve hissed as Villanelle worked her fingers beneath the waistband of Eve’s sweat pants. “Okay, okay, fairy floss,” she moaned.

“You see? It’s working already,” Villanelle whispered and smothered Eve’s mouth with an intense kiss. “No capital D death, just very nice little deaths for you, Baby.”

“Mmmh,” Eve had been rendered speechless, her mouth filled with the airy sugar of an assassin’s kiss.


End file.
